


Because I Could Not Stop for Death

by BadGoose



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: But there is light at the end of the tunnel, F/F, Gen, Minor Character Death, Other, Psychological Horror, This is pretty damn dark, just saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadGoose/pseuds/BadGoose
Summary: A series of grizzly scenes brings the FBI to the doorstep of Becky Lynch. Pulling the woman from her self-imposed exile into the belly of the beast and starting Becky on a journey through her past while confronting her future.





	1. Chapter 1

The night was silent and pitch black. Not even a hint of moonlight to illuminate the world. Allowing those who wished to stay hidden to easily slip away from prying eyes. Forgotten by the world. Darkness and seclusion their only companion.

 

A rusty, old but reliable black Subaru Outback chugged along the heavily forested roadway. Headlights the only source of light for miles here along the back roads of Afton, Minnesota. A tiny idyllic town surrounded by historic forests, nestled right up next to the Saint Croix River that separated Minnesota from Wisconsin.

 

The back of her car was full of fresh groceries. Green light from the clock on her dashboard reading 2:30am as she drove gently around the curvy roads.

 

Fall had made come and trees were changing into a kaleidoscope of beige, bold red, and yellow. The leaves whirling their way down to earth and littering the rain soaked ground. Quickly soaking up the water and losing any semblance of beauty or wonder they’d held when they remained attached to their support.

 

Inside the car sat Becky Lynch. Vivid scarlet hair tied into a lazy ponytail while she seemed to swim in an old University of Georgetown sweatshirt that was easily two sizes larger than what she needed. Idly drumming one hand along the worn leather steering wheel to the soft beat of Bill Withers’ _Lovely Day_ quietly playing through the speakers. Her other hand supporting her head. Elbow resting next to the window as she squinted ahead to see into the night.

 

Becky was a teacher… Or at least she was currently. Prior to that she had been considered one of the world’s best surgeons by the age of thirty. Her innovative techniques, relentless attitude towards finding superior solutions in the medical field and, though she didn’t like to admit it, her looks had made her into something of a celebrity inside the community. People spending thousands simply to see her for a consultation, often times covering great distances to meet her where she had been living at the time.

 

Inevitably the backlash came. Unknown enemies made themselves known. It was to be expected. One does not have such success without others becoming jealous of it, as well as those who are willing to jump on any perceived flaw. One enemy in particular digging deep into her past to help ruin her present.

 

It had been mostly easy to deal with at the time. She had expected it and had an unwavering strength behind her that made it all too easy to stand and take the shots when they came. Knowing that if she fell, there was not a shadow of a doubt that a pair of hands would instantly be there to pull her back up.

 

Life in general had been easy for those years. Everything she tried seemed to just work.

 

The bright beams of her car caught a flash of movement in the distance and Becky reflexively slowed down. When driving back roads in Minnesota it was best to assume that any movement meant a deer would choose the worst possible moment to jump right out in front of your vehicle.

 

As she slowed down even more Becky squinted and was able to make out the shape of what looked to be a dog walking along the side of the road.

 

Slowing down to a crawl when she was close enough to make out more detail. It looked large with a reddish tint to copper fur, but it was hard to tell beneath the mud and grime that covered most of its body. Long tail wagging left to right as it strutted along with its floppy ears bouncing with each step.

 

Becky looked behind her to see if any cars where coming and saw none. Still, she flicked on her hazard lights and rolled her window down to call out to the dog.

 

When that didn’t work, she drove a bit ahead and parked on the side of the road. Opening the back hatch and reaching into one of her grocery bags to pull some sausage and held it out.

 

At first the dog seemed a bit wary. Passing by her and doubling back. Getting closer with each pass till it gently took the treat. Backing away immediately but quickly coming back when Becky offered another.

 

She noted there was no collar and that made her decision for her. Holding her fingers out as the friendly stray began to lick her fingers and nuzzle their warm nose into her palm. Pushing her hand up the snout in a clear attempt to get Becky to begin petting.

 

If her decision hadn’t already been made, that would have sealed it.

 

When they had arrived at her spacious home Becky had quickly pulled around the hose after turning on some exterior lights. Gently washing as much of the grime as possible off of what she could now confirm was in fact a female dog. The stray’s coppery fur coming through as the dirt washed away onto the pavement.

 

Becky enjoyed the luxury of living nearly half a mile from any neighbors which allowed her to not care about the light and noise at such an ungodly hour. Her tiny one level home with a handmade porch that wrapped around half the exterior tucked away in the woods with a wide ring of flat land before the forest reclaimed its hold.

 

After drying the dog off she gave it an affectionate pat on the head and a quick scratch behind the ears before turning towards the front door and opening it up. “Come on in.”

 

The dog looked up at her with wide eyes, but Becky’s smile was disarming even for an animal. Striding inside as the surgeon held the door open.

 

Bounding in and coming to a stop when a group of three dogs came from deeper in the house to greet them. Looking at the newcomer with interest before turning back to the human who was currently bringing in bags of groceries from the car.

 

Of the three dogs that had already been living with her the largest was a Saint Bernard named Walt who was also the calmest and oldest amongst them. Always sticking by Becky’s side unless she pushed him to go play with the others. Content to just follow her around and observing the other two younger ones run around in their youthful exuberance.

 

The other two; Maya and Emily were a pair of mixes. Emily was closer to a beagle crossed with some type of lab. Her long floppy ears and slim body were covered in a patchwork of beige gradient with a tuft of pure white on the chest. While Maya was a terrier mix with a long snout and tiny ears that perked up at the smallest of noises. With fur a deep black that faded into a light almost golden brown at her legs. Each of them young and energetic. Routinely tiring themselves out so that Becky wouldn’t have to.

 

Becky stared at the new addition to her tiny family and gave the dog a smile. “Alright everyone.” She called out to get the other dog’s attention. “This is… Sylvia. She’s going to be staying with us for now.”

 

After another hour or so the dogs had settled down. Easily accepting the new entrant to their pack and laying down in a huddle just outside the slightly ajar door to Becky’s room. The original three silent even as the sound of furtive movements from inside the room caused Sylvia’s head to raise and point towards the noise. Eventually lying her head back down after none of the other dogs seemed to be concerned.

 

Inside Becky’s room the occupant of the bed was unwittingly twisted up in her own sheets. Covered in a cold sweat over her entire body that soaked through her sleeping clothes into the bedding.

 

Her eyes shot open and her mouth opened to begin sucking in large gulps of air. Rolling to her side when the taste of bile rose in the back of her throat. Her struggles becoming more frantic when the sheet inhibited her movement. Panic filling her not yet awake mind from the feeling of restraint.

 

With one more large movement the sheet finally slipped from where it had been restricting her and for just a moment Becky could breathe easier. Her head now pointed off the side of her bed towards the floor as the urge to throw up slowly decreased. One hand wiping the sweat from her forehead and quietly lamenting how much her hair had already soaked in before she awoke.

 

Sighing heavily, she got up and padded over to the small linen closet and pulled out a fresh towel that she could lay down on the soaked bedding. Far too tired to bother changing it tonight.

 

Ignoring the undeniable figure sitting silently on the other side of the bed. Forcibly reminding herself that he wasn’t real. He was dead. It was just her mind haunting her with his mangled body. The blood and cuts covering nearly his entire body looking exactly as they had when he had been brought into her hospital four years ago.

 

She continued to try and ignore the casual judgement on his face as she laid back down. Closing her eyes in the faint hope that her all too realistic hallucination would vanish, even though it never worked. Even when she didn’t see him, Becky could still smell the blood and remember the rushing sound of two gurneys being wheeled over tile floors.

 

Lying down in her bed with eyes closed, didn’t stop her from feeling his presence at her side. Knowing that the second she opened up her eyes his horrifically mangled body would be staring right back.

 

_“… One male, one female. Both were in the front of the car when they were struck. Multiple lacerations, probable concussions, broken bones, internal damage…”_

 

Becky tried to close her eyes tighter as the memories came back to her. There was no escaping the reality of her choice though.

 

She had known there would be potential consequences after making the decision but would make the same choice every time if given a do-over.

 

_“Bring her into my room. Dr. Sandow will take care of him.”_

 

As soon as she had recognized the people on the gurney Becky’s choice was made for her.

 

She had known what she was doing and made the choice anyways.

 

Sandow was capable… But he wasn’t her. He didn’t have her skill. Though, to be fair, almost no one could match her on the operating table.

 

Back in her bedroom Becky risked opening her eyes and peered to her left at the side of the bed that hadn’t been slept on since she bought the new mattress after moving out here to Minnesota.

 

Just as she expected he was still there staring at her. The skin on his face hanging off in large chunks that somehow still held on as he lowered his head and body until they were both lying down on the bed facing each other.

 

Becky unable to look away from the consequence of her own selfishness.

 

The dry cracked lips of the man who was close to becoming her stepbrother opened silently. _“You knew. I died because of you.”_

 

Becky felt the panic attack coming on as her chest tightened. Each breath coming harder than the last. Turning onto her other side and facing away from the all too real vision. Repeating, “He’s not real.” Over and over as her hands came up to cover her ears.

 

After a minute Becky felt something cold and wet touch her shoulder. Her breath hitching as she flinched in on herself.

 

Turning back over only to be greeted with three of her dogs occupying the space where her hallucination had previously been.

 

She gave them a tired smile and patted the bed in invitation. The dogs responding by lying down and snuggling close to the redhead.

 

Becky’s smile dropped a little as she searched for her newest addition. Turning around to see Sylvia sitting patiently on the ground as she peered up at Becky with worry and fear shining from her deep brown eyes. Scooting her feet to the side Becky patted the bed next to her. “You can come up. Don’t be shy girl.”

 

The dog jumped up at the offer and joined the others. Gently prodding Becky’s hand with her nose and giving her fingers a few licks before settling down.

 

For the moment the distraction was working, and Becky tiredly lay back down. Still half expecting the old ghost to pop back out like he always did. Sooner or later he would return. No matter what Becky tried she couldn’t escape the past.

 

The next morning started off fairly normal. Becky had been able to get maybe an hour of undisturbed sleep before deeming attempts at more to be a waste of time. The early morning sun peeking through the trees and illuminating her house’s interior in a soft glow.

 

The dogs had followed her, and she let them all outside to do their business before feeding them.

 

An ordinary morning until a sleek black sedan pulled up to the front of her house.

 

Becky had heard the sound of tires crunching over gravel and looked out the window. No one was supposed to be visiting today.

 

She saw two women get out of the car. Both in almost matching attire. Dark jeans and long black coats to protect them from the Minnesota Fall chill. One with brunette hair pulled into a practical ponytail at the back and golden skin. The other a tad shorter with caramel colored skin and wavy dark brown hair that complimented her well.

 

They came up to her porch and knocked. Becky taking care to hush the dogs and get them to stay put as she went to answer.

 

Reflexively opening up the door just a few scant inches and peering around the edge with one eye. “Can I help you?”

 

The darker skinned one was about to speak first when the other broke in. Pushing her way forward and giving Becky a wide smile. “Ms. Callaway or is it Knox?”

 

Any good mood she had vanished almost instantly. “It’s Lynch now. Haven’t gone by Callaway since… Since I was sixteen.”

 

“Of course…” The brunette looked noticeable abashed but her smile only faltered a bit. “My mistake. I’m Agent Martinez and this is Agent Banks from the FBI. We have a few things we’d like to discuss with you.”

 

Becky stepped back and allowed the door to open fully after a few moments of hesitation. “Come on in. Get out of the cold at least.” She said guiding them towards the small room she used as a study.  “Don’t worry about the dogs. They’re friendly.” Medical journals and sheets of music scattered around the room and a small bookcase to one side filled with worn compilations of classic poetry. The defining feature of the room being the large classical piano that took up a corner of the room and dominated the space. Along with several chairs that took up the other side of the room for the odd times she actually had guests over. Although if she was honest they were mostly used as beds for her dogs during the time she spent on the piano. “Well… What do you need to know?” Becky asked as she sat down. Blatantly ignoring the ghost watching her over the two agent’s shoulders.

 

“Becky… Can I call you Becky?”

 

Becky shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

 

“Well in good faith you can just call me Bayley then. No need for the fancy title.” Bayley continued to smile disarmingly at the somewhat standoffish woman.

 

“Ok Bayley. Why is the FBI knocking on my door?”

 

“We think you may have insight into a recent case.” Agent Martinez started lightly.

 

“Over the last few months we have found seemingly random body parts up and down the east coast.” Banks took over and continued. Leaning forward in her chair and studying Becky intently. “Each part matching to a missing person reported in the last year. Only problem being, we have no bodies. Just chunks. Placed in plain sight where the pieces were sure to be found.”

 

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.” Becky stated as her defenses started to automatically raise at Banks and the unconvincing polite tone in her voice.

 

Banks grinned widely like a cat playing with a toy. “Tell me doc. How many surgeries did you perform before you came here to hide in the woods and play teacher over at the University?”

 

Bayley sat back in her chair and let her partner continue to take the lead. Using the time to peer around the interior and taking mental notes about the cluttered space. Her eyes stopping at a small safe on the floor that she could just barely see poking out from the pile of papers that had been haphazardly stacked atop. Still keenly listening should Banks push too quickly.

 

“More than a thousand.” Becky responded with her eyes narrowing. The hair on the back of her neck rising as she began to feel like this was more of a subtle interrogation than a simple gathering of information.

 

“So, you wouldn’t necessarily remember individual cases. Would you?”

 

Becky’s eyes flicked up to the decaying and mangled corpse standing frozen in perpetual agony behind the two before refocusing on Banks. “Not necessarily. I tried not to get to know the patients too well. It was easier to do my job if I looked at them like an inventor or a mechanic looks at a machine. Although I do have a good memory and would probably recognize it given the details of what the operation was.”

 

Banks pulled out a yellow file and held it out. “Recognize your handiwork?”

 

With trepidation Becky took the folder and begrudgingly opened it. The first image making her gag reflex react as she quickly closed the folder back up. Her eyes shut tight even though the image was now burned into her mind.

 

A tiny delicate hand separated from its body and wrapped around the chain of a swing at some children’s playground like it was just holding on. Nothing visibly holding the hand in place. The skin completely flayed away to reveal the intricate muscle structure and tendons beneath.

 

Banks’ head tilted at Becky’s reaction. “They used an adhesive compound on the palm to make it stick to the chain. A combination of benzoine and mastisol that’s been used to enhance the strength of surgical dressing tape.” Carefully watching for the tiniest of clues in the other woman’s body response. “The one connection with every single person was that they all had surgeries… Surgeries performed by you.”

 

“You can’t think I—” Becky started.

 

“Don’t tell me what I think. Right now, this connection is the strongest link we have between victims. The count is twelve. Twelve former patients of yours missing. With twelve body parts left behind. Each body part specific to what surgery you had done for them. That first picture was the hand of an A.J. Lee. Ring a bell?” Sasha explained. Harsh and to the point.

 

Becky’s eyes glazed over a bit. “I remember her.” Swallowing deeply around the lump in her throat. “She was a violin player in the famous Jim Johnston Orchestra… I put her hand back together after it was crushed in a car accident. Took almost thirty hours to give her a chance of ever playing again.” The hand holding the folder shaking ever so slightly. “She sent a ticket to my office at the University a couple years ago when they came through Minneapolis. Said it would be an honor for her if I showed up.”

 

Bayley jumped in to try and even Sasha’s more accusatory tone with a conciliatory one. “We know this is all coming as a shock, but we need your help to stop whoever is doing this before any more former patients of yours go missing.”

 

“What do you need me to do?” Becky asked in a near whisper.

 

“You’re going to need to come with us back to D.C. Both for your potential safety and to provide unique insight into why this person is choosing these specific victims.” The unspoken other option being that they clearly believed it was possible Becky herself was the perpetrator and wanted to keep her close for questioning.

 

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Do I?”

 

Bayley frowned. “You really don’t. The sooner we get the information we need, the quicker you will be allowed to return to your life Ms. Lynch.”

 

Becky snorted. She wasn’t exactly naïve and knew that she would be under close watch for as long as the FBI deemed it necessary. “I’m sure. You already seem to have your mind made up Banks.”

 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Was all the woman said.

 

A dark chuckle left Becky. “I never chose to be adopted by him.”

 

“No. You didn’t.” Sasha conceded.  “You were just raised by a serial killer who buried more than thirty people alive and somehow knew nothing about it.  Forgive me if I’m a bit wary of the woman who grew up living with The Undertaker." Never taking her eyes off the redhead as she leaned in further. “Tell me why I shouldn’t be suspicious of you, all things considered?”

 

Becky stared back. Used to people thinking this after she was exposed even though most didn’t verbalize it. At least the change of hair color and last name had helped make it harder for people to recognize her. “I can’t. But I will still try and help you figure out who's doing this.”

 

“Great!” Agent Martinez added. Trying to break the icy tension between the two in an odd game of good cop, bad cop. “We will wait outside while you make arrangements for the dogs. Then we can drive you to the airport where we have a plane waiting.”

 

Becky raised an eyebrow. “Thanks.” She said. “I trust you can see yourselves out. It shouldn’t be too long for me to call up someone to watch over them while I’m gone. I’ll just need an extra few minutes to change.” Her eyes once again locking onto her hallucination casually standing. His bloody flesh masking what the expression on his face was.

 

“We’ll see you outside soon.”

 

“Don’t try anything funny.”

 

“I won’t.” Becky stated. Watching as the two women got up and walked straight through her bloody vision like it wasn’t there. Shaking her head and closing her eyes now that she had a moment to herself. Opening them back up to nothing.

 

No agents. No bloody ghost. Just the empty home that surrounded her.

 

She had rebuilt her life after growing up with a sword over her head and not even knowing it existed. Going so far as to change her name and move across the country to try and hide from the legacy people unfairly attributed to her.

 

Then it was all taken from her in a moment by a drunk driver that walked away from the crash without a scratch and she had to do it all over again.

 

Becky finished up on the phone with a local friend of hers that would be able to look after the dogs for her. Looking up at the mirror in front of her and seeing lifeless eyes staring back at her that weren’t her own.

 

The redhead sighed and turned around. Walking towards the front door and the two agents who had interrupted her seclusion.

 

She didn’t want to leave her home but felt obligated to help. Part of her wanted to say it was a coincidence, but every new picture she flipped through made that impossible to believe. Her mind forever haunted by the grotesque images.

 

A foot dangling from an overpass by a piece of fishing wire. Giving the severed appendage the appearance of magically floating in mid-air. Two carefully extracted kidneys carefully wrapped with golden silk bows and placed reverently in a shiny box and wrapped with care. Sitting at the top of a tall set of stone stairs on the cement landing.

 

Someone was choosing these victims with a purpose and if Becky could somehow help, she would never forgive herself for refusing to do so.

 

After a quick goodbye to her dogs Becky walked out and locked the front door behind her.

 

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to leave her simple life, but there was no other option right now.

 

Becky was going back to her where she had run from four years ago.

 

The entire drive to the airport was filled with mostly uncomfortable silence.

 

The plane ride itself was significantly worse. The agents insisting that Becky sit in the middle seat while being flanked on both sides by the two.

 

When they touched down Becky couldn’t get out of the plane quickly enough. Darting around the seemingly nice brunette who had sat in the aisle seat as she reached in the above head compartment. Quickly moving around as many passengers as she could to cheat her way out a bit quicker.

 

With a heavy sigh the brunette stared at her partner. “Keep an eye on her Sasha. I’ll get our bags.” Moving aside and making room for the other woman.

 

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Fine. You get the bags and I will go wrangle the baggage.” Sliding out towards the aisle. “Red booked it like she’d seen a ghost.” She waited for a response and turned to look at her partner when none came. “What is it Bayley?” Sasha asked when she saw the brunette frowning at her phone.

 

“She may have. Number thirteen was reported missing two hours ago.”

 

“Anything more?”

 

“Nope. But if the pattern holds, we will be finding Ethan Carter’s entire right arm in three days with a note addressed to Lynch.”

 

Sasha exhaled slowly. “We should show them to her.”

 

Bayley shook her head and looked around them. Allowing more of the passengers to pass and sitting back down so that she could speak with Sasha and not be overheard. “We agreed it was for the best to wait.”

 

Sasha peeked over the seats and saw Becky towards the front of the line about to exit the aircraft. An erratic energy surrounding the redhead as she shifted her weight from side to side. Eyes staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything. Almost like she was purposefully avoiding looking at something. “I know, but maybe she sees something in them. We can’t baby her just because you are scared that she can’t handle it.”

 

“I’m worried that we are doing exactly what the killer wants. Those notes are meant for her. The killer wants her to read them. Its written and signed by a dead man. This psychopath wrote notes to Becky like he was her father. He wants her to see them for a reason. A reason we don’t fully understand.” Bayley hissed.

 

Sasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a moment before sitting up straight and getting up to follow after their guest. “She has to see them sooner or later. I’m just expediting the process.”

 

“Alright. Don’t come blaming me if this all comes crashing down.” Bayley warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Charlotte in this chapter but she will be making an appearance in the next. Don't you worry.


	2. Chapter 2

_The knife was unsteady. Hands far too small to grip the handle fully. Physically incapable of holding it still while her heart raced._

_A far larger hand closed over hers and helped the blade stabilize. Gently guiding her with a soft, caring touch._

_“This is mercy Becca.” Came the gravelly deep voice that loomed behind her. “Allowing something to rest peacefully rather than live in pain. It’s a burden of being strong. We have to be there for the weak and do what must be done.”_

_“I-I can’t.” Brown eyes staring down at a familiar and trusting pair of dark orbs holding unconditional trust._

_She heard the soft sigh from behind. Warm breath trickling down the back of her neck like poison. Closing her eyes to avoid seeing the curious eyes peering up at her. “Sometimes being a good person means making difficult choices. You can choose the selfish way and let this animal live. Have him live out the rest of his days in agony as he slowly struggles till death… Or you can choose to help him. Take away his pain and end the suffering.”_

_Becky felt the tears she had been trying to hold back leak out. Hands still shaking beneath the steady hand that enveloped hers. Slowly pressing the blade down against the faint resistance that came from her own. “B-B-But I—”_

_“Enough Rebecca!” The sudden increase in volume making the small girl freeze. A hand as big as her entire head moving up to carefully wipe away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. “Duke will be happier. Letting him move on is the nicest thing you can do for him. Don’t you want to be a good person?”_

_Becky kept her eyes closed but nodded unconvincingly. Tears falling slowly and quickly disappearing in the harsh dry heat of Southern Texas in summer._

_The outside force pressing on her hands with increased pressure till the tip pressed against its soft target._

_“Remember. Find the gap in the ribs and then use as much force as you can when you thrust. You need to make sure you hit the heart. End it quick.”_

_Her heartbeat was still way to fast to hold the blade still. The large hand around hers tightening its grip a little more to stave off the shakes._

_“Help him… Free him.” The voice shifting and slithering inside her ears like a snake._

_The image rapidly changed and the dog she had known for four years was no longer lying beneath her blade. In its place the body of the man who still haunted her._

_“Kill him.”_

_Steel blade pressing through skin and embedding itself deep in the body below. The sound of it alone enough to make Becky nearly expel the contents in her stomach. Only just managing to hold back and avoid disappointing her father._

_The hand that had been covering hers came up soaked in blood. Gently catching her chin between his fingers and turning her to face him. Brushing the dark red hair away from her face and leaving behind a smear of red. Lips pressed reverently against her forehead. “That’s my girl.”_

“Becky… Becky.” The voice slowly pulling Becky out of her dream. Her eyelids still refusing to open as she slowly woke back up. A hand gently prodding the arm supporting her head.  

 

“What’s up?” Becky tried to stifle her yawn. The laminate ‘visitor’ badge on her lapel reminding her that she was still at FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. Immediately after landing she had drove here with the two agents and hadn’t left since.

 

That had been twelve hours ago. Twelve hours of questioning and waiting. Followed by yet more questioning and this current stretch of going over old patient files with Bayley in yet another room without a window. Twelve hours without fresh air, stuck under unnatural fluorescent light.

 

Bayley couldn’t deny the boredom that came with their current task. Going through file after file and looking for possible connections they may have overlooked with the surgeons help.

 

Almost twenty minutes ago she had left Becky alone in the room while she went to go get them some snacks. Any excuse to stretch her legs and take a break from the monotony of investigative work. 

 

Coming back to the room Bayley had immediately noted the sleeping surgeon. Quietly making her way over to the table and setting down the handful of snacks on the surface. The small noise doing nothing to stir the other woman.

 

As an FBI agent Bayley knew that she had to remain detached but couldn’t help the stirring in her heart. Sasha used to say that her heart was too damn big for what they did.

 

Becky looked absolutely exhausted and Bayley couldn’t deny she herself was feeling the strain of such long hours. At least she was able to leave on her own without an escort. Becky had no such luxury.

 

Special Agent in Charge Hunter Helmsley had made it crystal clear to Bayley and her partner that Lynch was not to be let out of their sight. Even if they didn’t have enough to officially charge her, she was still a suspect in their eyes.

 

The longer Bayley spent with her the more she got a gut feeling that they were barking up the wrong tree. As awkward and odd as Becky could be, Bayley couldn’t really blame her given all she’d been through, she seemed to have a good heart. That wasn’t enough by itself though. If she went to Hunter with nothing more than a feeling, he would probably ask for her badge right there. Or at the very least laugh her out the room.

 

Bayley noticed the surgeon stir but she didn’t seem to be waking up. Shoulders shaking ever so slightly while her breathing started to become erratic. Her face holding onto the stress. Even in sleep the redhead didn’t seem able to escape whatever was following her.

 

Though she could hear Sasha’s voice inside her head telling her to just leave it be, Bayley couldn’t. Prodding the redhead’s arm until she woke and picked her head back up.

 

“Brought some snacks. Figured you must be hungry by now.”

 

Becky looked down at the snacks and picked up a pack of trail mix. “Thanks.”

 

After sitting back down, Bayley and her charge continued to work. Until they were interrupted by Bayley’s partner entering the room.

 

“Pack it in.” Sasha stated matter of fact. Arms crossed as she eyed Becky with a hint of contempt and no small amount of clear mistrust. “We’re taking you to a safe place for the night. Tomorrow we’ll start back up.”

 

“A safe place?” Becky questioned. “Is that really necessary?”

 

“Someone thinks so. Get ready. Wheels up in five.” The standoffish agent informed her. Although whether it was safety for Becky or from her was never said.

 

Becky appreciated breaking the monotonous routine she had fallen into. The stack of files she had looked through still far shorter than those left. She nodded to the woman and finally let herself relax just a tad. The promise of a reprieve outweighing her questions.

 

The ride over went about as well as Becky expected. More awkward silence before they pulled up in front of a brick face building and quickly moved inside.

 

When they reached the room, it was unimpressive and clinical. Devoid of any personal items and filled with the bare level of furniture to qualify as furnished.

 

“Really nice place you guys got here.” Becky sarcastically stated. Drawing a small smile from Bayley and an irritated eye roll from Sasha.

 

“Just be happy you have a place to stay. I was perfectly happy letting you sleep on a chair at headquarters.”

 

Bayley gave the other agent a sideways look before turning back to the redhead. “Your bedroom is through there,” she pointed towards a door free opening in the wall that. “Do you need anything?”

 

Becky walked towards the room and peered inside. A simple twin bed and a tiny bedside table was all that filled the room. Her eyes scanned the wooden doorframe and she took note of the discolored wood where door hinges used to sit. “I’m guessing a door is out of the question?”

 

The woman she spent most of the day with gave a sympathetic frown, but Sasha answered, “Doors are for people we trust.”

 

Becky took it in stride. Just nodding and walking inside the bedroom. She had realized quickly that Sasha was just trying to get a rise out of her and confirm whatever negative assumptions she held. “No window either?” She asked out loud after seeing a metal sheet covering where a window had once been.

 

“Windows are for-”

 

“People you trust. I got it Agent Banks. Do you have a brother named Cody by any chance?”

 

Sasha was internally fuming at the nonchalant reactions she was getting but tried not to let it show. “Why would you want to know?”

 

“No reason.” Becky called out. Walking over towards the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom. “Can I at least take a shower?”

 

“Of course.” Bayley answered.

  
“Just leave the door cracked.” Sasha added.

 

After another twenty minutes Becky turned off the shower and stepped out onto the mat. The steam that had filled the room far too much for the old exhaust fan to deal with.

 

She quickly wrapped a towel around herself and moved to the fogged over mirror. Wiping away the condensation with one hand.

 

At one point she might have been surprised by the image that appeared behind her, but she had expected to see him. Body in a state of disrepair.

 

Chest opened up with the ribs cut and pulled away to expose the inner working of his torso. The image would be grotesque to most but as a surgeon Becky had seen similar images often. That didn’t stop her stomach from dropping.

 

She swallowed deeply and turned to walk out the door. Ignoring the vision best she could.

 

Not the least bit surprised that Sasha was leaning against the open doorframe and gazing at her with open contempt when she reentered the bedroom.

 

“What can I do for you Banksy?” Walking over towards the fresh shirt and shorts she had laid out for herself. Purposefully turning her back to the other woman.

 

“… I don’t trust you.”

 

Becky kept her back to the woman and dropped the towel. Uncaring of her own nudity. If Banks wanted to make this uncomfortable then Becky was fine playing along. “You made that very clear lass. Got anything new to say?”

 

“I don’t trust you. But Bayley seems to think I’m being unnecessarily difficult.” Becky said nothing as she slipped into the fresh clothes. “… I do trust her. Don’t make me regret it.”

 

The redheaded woman finished dressing but didn’t turn around. Her eyes locked onto the dead eyes that stared at her. Blood dripping out of the open chest in a steady rhythmic lullaby.

 

“I won’t.”

 

‘If I can help it.’ An unspoken addendum.

 

* * *

 

 

 Night was Charlotte Flair’s least favorite time of the day.

 

Night was when her life had fallen apart.

 

Night reminded her of what she no longer had.

 

Night reminded her of what she had thrown away. The left side of her bed a frigid empty wasteland that she wouldn’t cross into.

 

She slept relatively well most nights. That was mostly thanks to intense late night work outs. It was the reason why she had a treadmill in her bedroom.

 

When she tried to sleep without Charlotte waved the white flag. Sleep would not come. Not when she couldn’t exhaust her body so that her mind would hopefully follow.

 

If she didn’t Charlotte would lie there for hours never getting any closer to actually falling asleep. Her own mind wouldn’t stop running. Asking questions that she still didn’t know the answer to. Creating what-if’s that only served to taunt her.

 

Something about this night made her abnormally on edge. She wasn’t normally one to feel paranoid, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her place was being watched.

 

Earlier today she had met with her publisher, a portly man that looked far sleezier than he acted, Paul Heyman in downtown Washington D.C.

 

Heyman fancied himself a powerful influencer. One of the go-to publishers for anyone along the east coast.

 

Charlotte had started off writing as a hobby after she graduated from Georgetown. She had a major in political science but after just a few years in the industry she hardly recognized herself.

 

It had taken one woman to help show her that there was still a human being underneath the layers of scum that had built up in those years. One woman that she simultaneously missed like a lost limb and wanted to beat till she was nothing but a bleeding mess at her feet.

 

Her first book had been a passion project stoked by the confidence instilled in her from that woman. Real life made its way into her work and what had started off as a simple murder mystery had ended up being an ode to their growing relationship. The main character, a young optimistic female detective, ended up falling in love with a musician with an unshakable love for puns that had originally been just a small bit part in the larger story.  

 

Several books and multiple bestsellers later allowed Charlotte to leave politics behind and devote herself fully to writing.

 

After the meeting with Heyman the writer had went back to her penthouse after picking up some groceries. A black SUV she had never seen before parked across the street had caught her eye but thought nothing of it. That had been almost twelve hours ago, and the vehicle hadn’t moved from its spot.

 

Charlotte pulled all her curtains and was running on her treadmill. Dressed in a simple blue green sports bra and tiny black shorts. Speed pushed to the max as sweat poured down her face while she sprinted. The burn in her lungs helping drive away the thoughts running through her head. The sound of Nirvana pumping through her wireless headphones and nearly blocking out the sudden knocking at her door.

 

She pulled the key out of the exercise equipment turning it off and let it slow down before hopping off. Using a towel draped over the machine to wipe away the sweat from her eyes.

 

Who would possibly be knocking on her door at almost one in the morning?

 

The blonde didn’t want to take any chances.

 

She looked through the door and saw a small woman with a large jacket pulled over her slight frame. Even so Charlotte left the chain in place and opened the door just a few scant inches.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Before she said anything, the other woman brought a shiny badge up into her view. “Charlotte Flair? I’m Agent Sasha Banks with the FBI. Do you have a minute?”

 

“What is it?”

 

The agent seemed a bit taken aback by her reluctance. “Could I come inside? I don’t believe this is a conversation you’d like others potentially overhearing.”

 

Charlotte weighed her options and reluctantly conceded. Opening up the door and ushering the woman inside before quickly locking it. “This have something to do with the SUV you’ve had watching my building all day?”

 

Sasha rolled her eyes. “I told those two idiots to be more inconspicuous. We have some reason to believe there may be a threat on your life.”

 

The writer raised an eyebrow. “And you decided to tell me now?”

 

Ignoring the comment Sasha continued. “You were at one point involved with Rebecca Knox, otherwise known as Rebecca Callaway. Is that correct?”

 

The mood in the room shifted. Charlotte’s entire body tensing at the name. “I’m sure you already know the answer. But yes. Rebecca and I were involved.”

 

Sasha noted the change in tone but was not deterred. “Were you aware of her past when you were together?”

 

This was still a sore point and Charlotte already was wishing she had never answered the door. “I found out when I saw Ciampa’s piece like everyone else.”

 

“So, she never mentioned being the adopted daughter of a serial killer? That seems like a rather large thing to keep from someone you’re romantically involved with.”

 

“There’s reasons we aren’t together right now Agent Banks. I haven’t seen her in over four years now.” Charlotte said while walking towards her kitchen and pulling a bottle of water out the refrigerator. “Did something happen to her?” She asked. Trying hard to keep her voice steady and unaffected.

 

“She’s fine.” Sasha noted the subtle way that Charlotte seemed to relax after hearing that. “Given your own notoriety and connection to her we believe you may be a target for someone going after old surgical patients of hers.”

 

“I see…” Charlotte was immediately pulled back to the night she was under Becky’s knife. The entire night after the party was a blur. It had been another week before she had been cognizant of the world around her. And after she was Charlotte’s world fell apart piece by piece. “How is she?” She asked quietly. She had seen first hand the affect losing a patient had on the redhead and even though they had separated on poor terms she knew the guilt would be eating at her.

 

Sasha was a little taken aback. She hadn’t expected the writer to ask that and didn’t know what to say. Settling for, “She seemed fine to me when I left.”

 

“Can I see her?” Even Charlotte was a little shocked by this request but didn’t walk it back now that it was out there.

 

“Do you really want to?”

 

“No.” Charlotte shook her head resolutely. “I need to.”

 

* * *

 

 

Becky had gotten about an hour of sleep before she awoke. Trembling beneath sweat soaked sheets that she desperately rolled out of. Falling to the cold wooden floor as quietly as she could. Her breath coming in short gasps that did nothing to fulfill her bodies need for air.

 

In her barely aware state Becky didn’t recognize where she was which did nothing to help her rapidly rising panic. Her vision began to tunnel in. No matter how much she inhaled it never seemed enough.

 

The light suddenly flicked on and chased away the darkness. Becky’s unfocused gaze turned towards the entrance to the room. Her entire body feeling heavy from the lack of oxygen.

 

Bayley moved into the bedroom with her 9mm Sig Sauer P226 pistol steady in her hands. Quickly scanning the room and searching all the corners. Her eyes briefly falling on Becky before prioritizing a potential threat and ensuring that there was no danger in the room. Only after that did she holster her weapon and slide down to her knees at the fallen surgeon’s side. One hand reaching out to lightly rest on her shaking shoulder.

 

She had seen this before. The sight pulling at her heartstrings. “You need to slow down. Inhale and hold it.”

 

The ginger haired woman heard the words but didn’t understand them. Her mind still locked in a nightmare that waking hadn’t chased fully away. If anything, her breathing became more erratic and fast paced.

 

“Becky! I need you to listen to me. Focus on my voice.” Bayley’s own desperation rising. She may have seen this before but had never had such difficulty pulling someone out of it. Although she always had the benefit of having known the person for years. Becky was an unknown. Sure, she had read what was on file and knew a bit about the redhead’s mental issues, but it was another thing entirely to try dealing with it on her own.

 

Becky tried to listen. The voice sounded warm. Almost like home… Almost. Her chest felt on fire. Lungs burning as they seemed to shrivel up inside.

 

Bayley was distracted when she heard a single knock on the front door and a pause followed by two more in quick succession.

 

She knew it was Sasha but didn’t want to leave Becky’s side. “SASHA! Get in here.”

 

Becky’s pale face had begun to turn blue. Brown eyes rolling back in her head.

 

The door burst open and Bayley turned around to see Sasha walk in with a blonde woman she didn’t immediately recognize trailing behind. The newcomer dressed in an impeccably pressed gray dress with a beige trench coat pulled over the top along with a pair of shoes Bayley figured would cost her nearly an entire month’s salary.

 

Sasha was silent as she looked down at Becky. Hands tight against her side. Lips pulled into a thin line.

 

Bayley was surprised when the blonde pushed past her partner and dropped to her knees right next to her. The two exchanging a quick glance before they looked down at Becky.

 

The redhead’s eyes were unfocused, but she was staring at the tall blonde. Her mouth open and trying desperately to take in air.

 

“You’re safe Becks. Nothing can get you.”

  
Bayley watched on as the blonde took one of Becky’s limp hands and brought it to her own chest. Placing the palm directly over her heart.

 

“Breathe with me.” She said. Taking exaggerated deep breaths. Becky’s hand riding the motion of her chest as it expanded and contracted. “Come on Becks. In and out. You can do it. Deep breaths. Just breathe for me beautiful.”

 

Bayley sat back as the blonde’s words seemed to slowly have an effect. She glanced back at Sasha for a little reassurance but saw the way she was staring through Becky. Like she wasn’t even there.

 

She should have guessed this would happen.

 

The brunette got up from her knees. If this blonde was who she thought it was then she would be fine to leave her with Becky for a moment.

 

She moved over to Sasha and gently grabbed her elbow. The brilliant brown eyes turning to look at her with the contact. Bayley smiled softly. “Let’s give them a minute Sash.”

 

Sasha nodded along and let herself be led out of the room. Leaving Charlotte and Becky on the floor by themselves.

 

Becky breathing slowly began to return to normal. Palm warm against the woman’s chest who she thought she would never be able to touch again.

 

Her eyes looked up at the blonde and a few tears leaked out. “Ch-Charlie?”

 

“I’m here beautiful.” Charlotte cooed. One of her hands continuing to hold Becky’s against her chest while the other rested on her cheek. “I’m here. Just keep breathing. Stay with me.”

 

“Are you real?” Becky’s voice was quiet in between breaths. Her eyes gazing over the blonde’s shoulder. The bloody ghost that was always there looking forlornly at the blonde and ignoring Becky altogether.

 

“Of course. I’m right here Becks.” Charlotte said. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”


End file.
